This all started as an exercise in not driving myself off of a cliff emotionally. Sitting down, looking at the words, made my brain hurt in ways that I didn’t want to acknowledge. The entire basis was to let out a conversation I could no long have in a healthy way. Not keeping it bottled up until I reached a point where I was either spending some quality time in a room with a camera facing me at most times or I had done something much more permanent.
I had little choice but to open myself up to criticism, scorn, finger pointing, potential laughter and hopefully some peace. The manner in which my relationship had ended left no room for discussion. Literally no room since she never picked up the phone after that text message. It was a very different kind of death, but just as shocking to me. And in such a short period of time after my daughter’s actual death that I couldn’t handle it without finding a way to let it out.
Sometimes I sound like garbage, my mind wandering through a significant wilderness trying to find a path to follow. I was trained to deal with other people’s grief, not my own. In all of my years, I never learned how to deal with death in any manner most would call healthy. I push it so deep that by the time it surfaces, it’s absolutely is too late. I hate that about myself!
I realized last night how far I can bury things without saying a word. Watching my father, via Skype, open the gift I sent was good. Being subjected to my brother then getting cards and presents while I sat there was cruel. Father’s Day still has meaning to me, just because she’s no longer around doesn’t mean that she didn’t exist. There is a difference between someone being out of sight, out of mind and what they did to me. A card wouldn’t have been too much to ask for. I don’t know how to forgive that, and I don;t know if I can.
That is why I write this. Without it, I’m lost. I’m lost even with it, but having someplace to admit that is better than none. Admitting that it all hurts still is better than continuing to pretend otherwise. Some days this is a dark blog to read, others maybe I’ve said something that rings true with someone. But it’s the best I can do for right now, hopefully people see that.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “All About Me.”